


Ron/Blaise Prompted Drabbles and Ficlets

by FleetofShippyShips



Series: Prompted Harry Potter Works [7]
Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: HP: EWE, Hogwarts Eighth Year, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-08-19
Updated: 2017-10-29
Packaged: 2018-12-16 21:21:33
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 3
Words: 3,049
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/11837286
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/FleetofShippyShips/pseuds/FleetofShippyShips
Summary: Prompted Ron/Blaise drabbles and ficlets from my blog.Ratings and content vary.





	1. "Get down on your knees."

**Author's Note:**

> Chapter title is the prompt line for the drabble, and any additional detail is in the chapter notes.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Prompted by wispurdmusings.

“Get down on your knees.” 

Zabini shot Ron a dirty glare, before doing it anyway. It really was the only way to reach the back of the shelf to clean it, and Ron was sick of hearing him moan about being unable to reach. The Potion storeroom floor was disgusting, and cleaning the room without magic was the worst detention he’d had so far. But at least he was cleaning higher shelves.

“Of all the reasons you could tell me to get on my knees, this is the most disappointing. I’d much rather hear you snap that at me for another reason,” Zabini muttered, looking at him over his shoulder with a dirty leer.

Ron froze, his mind grinding to a halt. Did he mean… 

“Shut your mouth, Zabini!” he snapped. His face was heating up, and he couldn’t stop himself from looking at the git’s mouth. Who said things like that? Out of nowhere? 

Merlin, he was thinking about it now.

“Oh? Like the sound of that, do you, Weasley?” Zabini said, raising an eyebrow at him, and turning away from the shelf. “Didn’t think you—”

“I’m not!” Ron snapped, trying to calm down as Zabini shuffled closer on his knees. 

Why was that so damn arousing? He didn’t even like the git. But neither could he bring himself to say anything further as Zabini reached for the fastening of his trousers, looking openly interested, and disgustingly smug when he discovered Ron was already getting hard.


	2. "I'm sure there's a better way of achieving an end."

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Prompted by whispurdmusings.

“I’m sure there’s a better way of achieving an end,” Blaise muttered, shifting again.

“Stay still! you’ll give us away,” Ron hissed, cuffing the back of his head.

“Don’t touch me, weasel!”

Ron scoffed, and peered through the crack in the cupboard door again. Blaise tried to stay still, but there was a sharp box corner digging into his thigh, and one of Ron’s elbows was pressing uncomfortably against his ribs.

“We could have used disillusionment charms to hide!” he hissed, jostling him again.

“Harry can see them,” Ron muttered. “Quit your complaining, it was your idea to jump out at them and have them stumble back and trigger the spells. This cupboard is in the perfect position for that.”

“We only need to get them to back into the couch. There are many different ways we could do that. When you said to leave it to you, I thought that—”

Ron turned and pressed a hand over his mouth. “It’s all part of the plan,” he whispered. “Now would you shut up?”

Blaise grit his teeth, and nodded, and Ron took the hand off his mouth. 

Jostling Ron again, he managed to get more comfortable, even if it meant they were far too close to each other. It was better than that box digging into the back of his thigh. Besides, Ron always smelled good, so at least it wasn’t like the time he’d been crammed in a closet with Greg.

“Are you sniffing me, Zabini?”

Blaise blinked, and reared his head back, only to smack it on a box sticking out from the shelf behind him.

“Fuck!”

“Shut up!” Ron hissed, slapping a hand over his mouth again.

Blaise tried to tell him to let got, but it came out in a muffled garble, and Ron didn’t move his hand. It looked like he was squinting in the darkness. It was hard to see, with the only light filtering in from the crack where the door was slightly open.

“You know, when I told Malfoy I wanted your help in pranking Harry, and asked whether you’d be afraid to be crammed in a closet or something, he laughed. A lot.”

Blaise made an angry muffled sound. Their plan had been to work both of them. Ron going to Draco about getting Blaise’s help to prank Harry, and Blaise going to Harry about Ron helping him prank Draco. Lull them into a false sense of security. They’d be unable to resist being around each other, waiting for the prank to go off, and smug about being involved without it being traced back to them. They wouldn’t guess the plan was to get both of them.

Blaise had thought it sounded a bit overly complicated. While those two idiots were mostly,  _ almost _ , friendly now, they still fought too much. He and Ron had bonded over what idiots they were for continuing to be so pathetically petty. And he had been impressed by the Gryffindor's pranking ideas before. It was too interesting to pass up the chance to get Draco as payback for all his complaining about Harry.

But maybe Draco had played him. 

Blaise hadn’t said anything about being attracted to the ginger git, but Draco wasn’t an idiot. And Ron liked to walk from the showers to his dorm room in just his towel, right through the common room, since the dorms and the bathrooms were stupidly placed on opposite sides of the eighth-year quarters. It was making Blaise go a little bit mad. 

Not that he liked the git or anything. He was still an annoying, pompous Gryffindor. Even if he was a lot nicer now than he’d used to be. Even if he and Granger had stopped being ridiculously awkward, and making everyone else awkward with them, and gone back to being normal friends. Even if he played a good game of chess. Even if Blaise had not yet managed to beat him, but he was a good sport about it. 

“Almost like there was something funny about associating you with a closet,” Ron added, drawing Blaise back from his thoughts.

Blaise made another muffled sound, and tugged at Ron’s wrist.

There was laughter outside the cupboard, and Blaise froze. Harry and Draco. Having one of their good days, and not fighting for once.

Tugging at Ron’s wrist again, he tried to get him to let go. They were missing their chance. Ron held firm, moving to pin Blaise against the shelves, and preventing him from leaving the cupboard to trigger the prank.

After a few moments Harry and Draco’s voices had faded, and Blaise made an angry sound.

“This is a much more interesting opportunity,” Ron said, finally sliding his hand off Blaise’s mouth. “You’re bent, aren’t you? That’s why Malfoy laughed about—”

“I don’t see what business it is of yours!” Blaise hissed, shoving him, until he hit the other side of the tiny cupboard, and Blaise finally had some breathing room.

Ron didn’t even seem angry. Instead, he laughed, and Blaise bristled, his stomach sinking from the possibility that Ron was going to be an arse about this. 

“That’s why you’re always making that face when you see me after my showers!” he exclaimed. “I knew I wasn’t imagining that!”

“Piss off,” Blaise muttered half-heartedly, making to leave.

“Hang on, hang on,” Ron said, grabbing his arm, and stopping him. “Don’t go overthinking it.”

Blaise tore his arm free, and prodded Ron sharply in the chest. “Laughing at someone after calling them bent is fucking disgusting, Ron,” he hissed, unable to stop himself from using his given name, and finding himself surprised by how much this upset him. “You’re better than that!”

Ron made a sound that was clearly muffled laughter, and Blaise was sorely tempted to hit him. But Ron was stronger than him, and he wouldn’t win an outright physical altercation. He was no fool.

“You don’t see it, do you?” Ron said, his hand suddenly gripping Blaise’s chin.

Before he could comprehend it, Ron’s lips were pressed against his, the aim slightly off in the poor lighting, but undeniably a kiss.

He didn’t have time to react. Ron’s lips left his before he could even catalogue the sensation properly, and then their foreheads were touching, and Ron’s hand was cupping his jaw. Surprisingly gentle.

“You never thought it was weird that I had my showers all at different times, and always when you were hanging around in the common room?” he said quietly. “I’d heard rumours, but you’re too hard to read. Even though I thought you might be checking me out, it wasn’t clear enough to confirm. I didn’t know what to do.”

“You absolute—”

“I didn’t make nice with Malfoy for Harry, you know,” Ron interrupted. “Harry is still being a stupid prat about him. I mean, Malfoy deserved a second chance, but he is still a prick most of the time. So why do you think I’ve tolerated the git? It got me closer to you, you silly twat.”

Blaise scowled before he could stop himself. “Yes, insult the boy you like, and his friend, excellent strategy,” he hissed.

Ron laughed again, low, soothing. His thumb was brushing over Blaise’s cheek, and he wanted to turn and bite it. It was making his face heat up, and he wasn’t one to get so affected by something so simple, surely.

“What is a good strategy then?” Ron asked. “I’m a bit out of my depth with boys. I was just winging it until now.”

Blaise exhaled slowly. This was like some messed up hallucination. Like the time he and Draco had consumed a bad batch of dreamless sleep in seventh year, and had the most insane waking dreams.

“Blaise?” Ron asked softly, sounding unsure.

Merlin. Ronald Weasley, sounding vulnerable. That was a thing unheard of. He was confidence personified. More so than bloody Harry Potter. 

His stomach quivered from the thought of having that effect on him. Worthy payback after being tormented by that naked torso, with beads of water still clinging to his freckled skin, parading through the common room.

“Oh, Merlin,” Ron whined. “I’ve gone and cocked this up, haven't it? Please, be a mate? Don’t tell Harry? He’ll tell George and Ginny. I’ll never live it down. I’ll never mention this again, I swear, just don’t tell—”

Blaise leaned forward, kissing him, and cutting off his rambling. He received a startled sound for his efforts, and Ron’s other hand gripping his shoulder tightly. He’d caught him with his mouth open, and tentatively touched his lips with his tongue. Easier to show than tell sometimes.

Ron made a low sound, and then his hands were cupping Blaise’s face, and the kiss was deeper, and their tongues were touching, and Blaise had never been kissed like this before. All he’d had was that awkward peck from Seamus bloody Finnigan after the Yule Ball in fourth year that they never, ever talked about again.

Reaching out, gripping Ron’s sides, wanting to pull him closer, he was unprepared for a sudden burst of light.

They pulled apart, turning to see Draco and Harry standing behind Dean Thomas, who was wielding a camera. Draco and Harry were grinning like smug idiots, and Blaise felt his face set in a scowl. Looking to Ron, he saw a similar expression.

Ron nodded to him, and as one, the lurched forward, shoving the three of them until they hit the back of the couch and triggered the prank spells contained there. A waterfall of purple sparkling, sticky liquid came gushing down from the disillusioned container attached to the ceiling. Moments later, the couch behind them exploded into a flurry of feathers, and a flick of Ron’s wand had the curtains tearing themselves from their rails, and wrapping around their ankles, before hoisting them up, and hovering near the ceiling to dangle them upside down.

Dean, Draco, and Harry were silent for a moment, hanging there, covered in feathers and sparkles, and then the swearing began. Ron turned to Blaise, and gave him a smug smirk.

“Game of chess in the kitchens?” he asked, stowing his wand.

“Excellent, I’m starving,” Blaise replied, tossing a smirk at Draco, and then following Ron from the common room.

At least the prank hadn’t been wasted after all.


	3. "They have fallen silent."

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Prompted by starshaping.
> 
>  **Warning** , gets a little angsty/sad at the end.

“They have fallen silent.”

If there was any light to actually see by, Ron would be glaring at Blaise. As it was, the closet was dark, so it wasn’t worth the effort.

“What kind of ominous shit is that?” he whispered harshly.

Blaise snorted softly, and shifted a bit.

“I’m bored, Weasley,” he said. “I don’t see why we have to wait for them to fall asleep before sneaking out of here. Who cares?”

Ron felt his face heat up. He cared, because Harry and Seamus had both been present when he’d said some unfortunately revealing, and illuminating, things about Blaise the last time he’d been drunk. He hadn’t even known he’d been lusting after the git until he’d waxed poetic about his bloody soft-looking skin. And his lips, and his arse. If they caught him trapped in a bloody closet with him, they’d never let him hear the end of it.

They would not believe that he’d caught Blaise sneaking into their dorm, and in the altercation that had followed, they had fallen into the closet that no one used. Or that Ron had panicked, and frantically shut the doors behind them when he’d heard voices approaching.

He barely believed it himself.

“You don’t know them like I do,” he muttered. He’d cast a one-way silencing charm on the closet when he’d realised they were going to bed, but he still couldn't stop himself from talking quietly anyway.

“If we’re going to be stuck in here any longer, as least make it more entertaining.”

Ron’s mind promptly tripped and fell into the gutter. Consequently, his face got hotter. In addition, his pants got tighter, as he imagined all the ways he could make their stay in the closet more entertaining.

“Piss off,” he muttered, pressing tightly against his side of the closet to keep space between them.

“I would, but you won’t let me,” Blaise said spitefully.

“What were you doing in our dorm anyway?” Ron asked, trying again to get information out of him. “I already know you were here, you might as well tell me what plot you and your bloody friends have against us.”

“You know nothing.”

Ron scowled into the darkness. “I know you were creeping around in a dorm you shouldn’t be in. I could report you.”

There was the sound of shifting fabric, and then Ron could feel warm air on his face. His pants suddenly felt tighter, and he cringed.

“And I know you and Seamus were the ones who put that charm on Theo’s bed last week. I should report you.”

Ron grinned. The aftermath of that prank had been spectacular. “You have no proof. It’s just your word.”

“Once I’m out of this room, you have no proof I was here, and it’s just your word. McGonagall may favour you lot, but she’s too fair to take anyone only on their word.”

A hand brushed Ron’s chest, and he flinched. Blaise patted around, until he found Ron’s face, and then he gave his cheek a gentle slap.

“You can’t do shit. So let me out, or entertain me.”

Ron made a grab for Blaise’s wrist, but missed, and hit his shoulder instead.

“You call that entertainment?” Blaise asked, and Ron could hear the smirk in his voice. Scowling, he felt around, trying to find his face so he could punch him. “You Gryffindors are so boring. Listening to them talk about bloody Quidditch and plants for the past twenty minutes has been the dullest—”

Ron found Blaise’s face. But somehow, he ended up kissing him, instead of punching him.

Pulling back, shocked at himself, he pressed himself back against the side of the closet, and prepared to get punched. He wouldn’t even see it coming in the dark.

Blaise was silent, and all Ron could hear was their breathing. Blaise was still close enough that he felt his breaths as puffs of warm air on his face.

His trousers were still too tight.

Several moments later, Blaise touched Ron again, landing on his collarbone, and then shifting up. Ron tensed as Blaise’s fingers mapped his face, and then brushed his lips.

Ron felt him move closer, and winced, waiting for the punch. He doubted Blaise would mock him publicly for that kiss, since everyone would question why they were in a closet together in the first place, and think it was mutual. Which left hitting him or hexing him.

When Blaise spoke again, he was so close, Ron was sure he could feel his lips bump softly against his chin.

“I suppose we could be anyone in the dark,” Blaise whispered, before finding his lips, and kissing him back.

Ron made a startled sound. Blaise just kept kissing him. His hands were cupping Ron’s face, and Ron managed to grab his upper arms, just to have something to hold on to. He’d only recently figured out he wanted to be snogging Blaise, and now he was. And his pants were still so tight, and he was aching, and if Blaise moved any closer he’d know. His face was so hot it felt like it was burning.

But Blaise didn’t stop. He left Ron’s lips, and kissed along his jaw. Ron breathed raggedly into the silence, and clutched tightly at his arms. Blaise just tilted his head, dropped on hand to make space, and started kissing his neck. Closed and gentle, and then open-mouthed and hot.

“ _Blaise_ ,” Ron said weakly.

Blaise bit his neck softly, and then moved back up, bumping his nose before finding his mouth again. He kissed him chastely, and then brushed his fingers over his lips.

“Just pretend I’m someone else.”

Ron frowned, not sure what that meant, but then gasped and dropped his head back against the wall of the cabinet, as Blaise stepped forward, and they pressed together.

Blaise stilled, and then he sighed into Ron’s ear.

“This won’t happen again. You okay with that?”

Ron bit his lip, as Blaise rocked his hips forward. He grabbed at his waist, and dug his fingers in.

“Yeah.”

He’d have to be an idiot to say no.

Blaise hummed, and then they were kissing again.

Ron kept his eyes tightly shut the whole time, even though it was dark. It had to be better to have this once, than never. It had to be.

He kept thinking that right up until Blaise moaned another name into the skin below his ear, and it hurt so much more than he expected.


End file.
